He was being summoned.
Or so the brochures said.
No answer. The vault was silent. The other ninety-nine coffins—each holding a wealthy, dying soul—were dark. Not offline. Dark. As if their internal power had been leeched into a void. provibiol headsup
Aris backed away. The Head-Up alert was no longer a warning. It was an invitation. The ruby light on his own interface panel began to pulse in rhythm with the emerging creature's glow. He was being summoned
It was showing him his own reflection, smiling back with teeth that weren't his. echoed through the vault’s speakers.
A voice, synthesized from a thousand dead patients' vocal patterns, echoed through the vault’s speakers.